Love is a peculiar thing
by Godess-of-shawarma
Summary: How Sebastian Moran got kicked out of the army, and met one James Moriarty. MorMorMor.
1. Prologue

He wasn't really sure how he'd ended up there. In an airport, with nothing except his duffel bag, his wallet, and his phone.

It had all happened so fast. The only thing he knew was that it was his bloody brother's fault. Somehow that bastard had gotten him kicked out of the army. Dishonorably discharged, they'd called it. He probably would've gone on trial, if it hadn't been for the fact that his last name was Moran. He'd joined the army with his twin brother, when they were twenty-five, and it had been one big competition since then. Who could get the highest rank, who could get the most medals, and so on. But it had all been friendly, or so Sebastian had thought. Apparently Severin had thought differently.

It had all changed when he became a Colonel, leaving his brother as a Major. They'd been stationed together in Afghanistan when some officers claimed to have seen him stab a private from their company. He knew it had been his brother, and the privates knew it as well. But even though they respected Sebastian, after all he was a good leader that took care of his men, they feared his brother. After all, they had just seen him stab another man in cold blood. And Severin had a bit of a reputation, and not a good one. Sebastian didn't blame the privates for not telling the truth, he was sure that his brother had threatened them as well. No, it just made him all the more angry with his brother

So, he suddenly found himself back in London after thirteen years, with no home, no money, and no friends to speak of. He had tried calling his parents, but that had gone just as terribly as he had suspected. They'd said he was a disgrace to the family, that they would have expected this from his brother but certainly not him, how could he do this, and so on. But he was without a home, and without his father's money, which was a first for him. At least he had the money he'd earned from spending thirteen years in the army.

He sighed as he walked out of the airport, looking around for a cab. He had enough money on his credit card to stay in a hotel room, maybe even rent a small flat, but it wouldn't last too long, he knew that. He'd have to find himself a new job, soon. Though he had no clue as of where he'd find one, or what he would even do. The army had been his life, and it had been ripped away from him because of a idiotic, jealous brother.

"Colonel Sebastian Moran?"

He turned around swiftly, snapping out of his thoughts as he heard someone say his name. "Maybe. Who're you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at the small, dark-haired man that was leaning against a slim, black car, presumably watching him from behind his dark shades.

"James Moriarty. But you can call me Jim. I'm a friend of your brother," the man said, lazily holding out his hand for Sebastian to shake.

"Then no, you've got the wrong person," Sebastian stated, ignoring the hand, turning away from the man, heading over to a cab he spotted nearby.

He heard a quiet snort behind him, and he didn't need to look to know that the man was following him.

"Trust me, darling, I'm not a man you want to walk away from."

Sebastian kept walking silently, not in the mood to deal with some jerk, but unfortunately the man seemed to have a different idea.

"I'm guessing you're in need of a job. And a place to stay. I can offer you both, in one deal. Doesn't that sound great?" the man asked, and Sebastian finally turned around to glare at him

"No. Not at all." he muttered, adjusting the bag on his shoulder.

"No? But why not?" The man, Jim, arched an eyebrow at him, looking genuinely appalled, as if he didn't understand why on earth anyone would say no to a job offer from a man they'd just met, at an airport. A man who was apparently friends with his bastard of a brother, on top of everything else.

"Well, firstly, you're friends with my brother."

"Oh, no. I say 'friends', but.." Jim scrunched his nose slightly, "I don't really have friends."

"Secondly, I know nothing about you. You could be a psychopathic serial killer for all I know."

For some reason that made Jim augh, a deep, throaty laughter, which was the last thing Sebastian was expecting.

"You.. You're not a psychopathic serial killer, are you?" he asked, groaning quietly. Of course his brother would be friends with a lunatic. Oh, that was great.

"Oh, it doesn't matter what I am. All that matters is that I've got a job for you. You can either take it, or live in the streets. I can guarantee you that nobody will give you work, anywhere. I'll make sure of it. If I can't have you, then no one can," Jim said, suddenly looking annoyed.

Sebastian chewed on his lip for a moment, studying the smaller man. He looked serious enough. "What exactly would I have to do?" he grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I'm in need of a sniper, as of now. Depends on how much I like you if you'll get a promotion or not." And now the man was back to his previous snug self, smirking at Sebastian, looking far to pleased with himself..

"And how much would I get payed?"

"A lot more than you would anywhere else. Now, come on. We don't have all day," Jim mused, grinning widely at Sebastian, before moving away, into his car, leaving the door open for Sebastian.

And Sebastian, who had never been known for making good decisions, followed.


	2. Chapter 2

The next year went by rather quickly, Sebastian moving up from Jim's sniper, to bodyguard, to Chief of staff, to right hand man. Which pretty much meant doing all the things he'd done before, only he also became the man's own personal fucktoy, and live-in pet.

Sebastian didn't mind much, not anymore. He'd found out the hard way that it was better not to piss the other man off, disappoint him, or just be in the way when he was in one of his moods. Not that Sebastian never did, pissing Jim off was a thing he enjoyed. Or maybe it was the punishment he got afterwards that he enjoyed so much, even though he would never admit that.

But, unfortunately, somewhere along the way feelings had gotten involved. On Sebastian's part of course, not Jim's. He wasn't sure how it had happened, exactly, perhaps it was a slow and gradual thing, perhaps it had happened all at once, or perhaps it was both.

All he knew was that one morning, a simple morning with nothing out of the ordinary, well except that they had ran out of coffee, which left Jim unusually grumpy and tired-looking, and more human that Sebastian had seen him since, well, ever.

The criminal had been sitting cross-legged on his chair in the living room, typing away on his laptop as usually, doing whatever he did on there, a small frown on his face. Sebastian glanced up at him from where he was sprawled over the couch, looking over some papers(because being the most dangerous men in London came with a surprising amount of paper work), finding himself unable to look away, and suddenly everything was different.

"What the bloody hell are you looking at?" Jim growled, somehow knowing that Sebastian was watching him without looking up from his laptop.

"I- Nothing, boss," Sebastian mumbled, his eyes darting away to the paper in his hands, his expression becoming neutral, even though he couldn't quite keep away the smile that ghosted over his lips.

He busied himself with the paperwork, not allowing himself to think, or feel. He'd gotten quite good at that, after all it was the key to surviving the army. Blocking things out, ignoring them, not caring.

He hadn't minded so much the killing, the shooting people, they were bad guys who deserved it, or so he'd told himself. No, it was good people, his men, his friends, getting blown up or shot right next to him. Those were the things that had gotten to him. At first. After a while he'd learned to shut it all out, to move on, and eventually to not make friends. It was just him and his brother. Which was why it had hurt so much when the bastard had betrayed him. Still, shutting it out hadn't solved any problems, not long-term, anyway.

Now he'd get nightmares, occasionally. Sometimes they were things that had happened in the army, things he tried not to think about. But most of the time they were about his brother, getting shot in the head, blown into pieces, or something person that he'd known in the army, every person that he had seen die became his brother. He didn't understand it, it wasn't like he actually cared. Or so he had convinced himself.

Jim made a small huffing sound, which pulled him out of his thoughts. He shook his head to clear it, filing whatever that strange feeling in his chest away to deal with later. Or, more likely, never.

Things went pretty well for another year after that. Jim found himself a new obsession, well found wasn't exactly the word for it, apparently he'd been stalking - or observing, as Jim called it - the guy for ages. But for some reason Jim's interest in the man doubled, and now he was preparing something big, even though Sebastian' wasn't allowed to know what it was. Not yet.

But tonight was one of the rare quiet nights, the nights where they'd sit together on the couch, Jim draped across his chest, either watching the telly with him, reading a book, or like now, simply doing nothing. He held the other man just a bit tighter, pressing a small kiss into Jim's hair, smiling when he could almost feel the other man roll his eyes.

Their moment of peace didn't last long though, because suddenly there was a loud knocking on the door. Sebastian furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at Jim questioningly, but the other man simply sat up with a small shrug, nodding towards the door, telling Sebastian to get it.

The sniper slowly sat up, reaching for the gun he'd hidden in a secret drawer on their coffee table (because of course he had guns hidden all over the house, both so he could reach one at any time, and to keep them from Jim). He tucked the gun in his trousers, where he could easily get it if he needed it, but where it wouldn't alert someone if it was only one of their neighbours.

It wasn't, though. Sebastian opened up the door, looking into a face he hadn't seen in two years, a face identical to his. "You," he spat out, and before he knew what he was doing he'd swung his fist, hitting his brother right in the nose, making the other man almost fall over.

"Right, I probably deserved that," Severin muttered as he righted himself, glancing at his twin as he wiped the small trickle of blood running from his nose. Sebastian growled quietly, and was about to hit him again when there was a voice from behind him.

"Sebastian," was all it said, but he knew that tone, low and dangerous, and he knew not to provoke Jim when he sounded like that. He tensed up, clenching his fists, but he stepped aside so his brother could enter.

"Oh, he's got you all trained up, has he?" Severin said, a crooked grin on his face, looking his brother over as he entered the flat. "Jimmy," he drawled, his face lighting up as soon as he saw the criminal, and what the hell was up with the grin on Jim's face. "Rin," came the reply, and oh god they had nicknames for each other.

Sebastian pursed his lips slightly as Severin walked straight up to Jim, pulling him into a hug. It was all Sebastian could do to stay calm and not murder his brother. But then the bastard leaned down, pressing his lips against Jim's, and that was it, Sebastian couldn't take it anymore, and the next second they were on the ground, Sebastian on top of his brother, his hands around Severin's neck, strangling him.

He could hear Jim yelling his name but he didn't care, not anymore. He kept his hands around his brother's neck, smirking when the other started to struggle, looking white from the loss of oxygen. God, this felt good.

"Sebastian, that's enough," Jim snarled behind him, taking out the gun Sebastian had hid in his trousers, pointing it at his head. He could hear the click when the safety came off, and looked up, staring at Jim, his face unreadable. He let go of his brother, who started coughing, bringing up a hand to rub his neck.

"Are you alright?" Jim asked, and Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, before he noticed that Jim wasn't looking at him, no, he was looking down at Severin, something akin to concern on his face. Jim, who never cared about anyone, who had yelled at Sebastian countless times for coming home wounded, who had never, not once, looked even remotely worried about him, was asking [i]Severin[/i], of all people, if he was alright.

Sebastian let out a small huff, sounding a mix of annoyed and surprised, shaking his head slowly as he got up. "Screw this," he muttered, a cold, humourless smile on his face, as he turned around, walking over to the entrance hall, throwing on his jacket, kneeling down to tie his boots.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Apparently Jim had finally noticed that he was leaving, having been too busy worrying about his brother. The criminal loomed over him, his expression dark, and Sebastian knew that nothing good was going to happen to him. Well, nothing good would have happened, if he were staying, that is.

"Out," he replied curtly, pushing himself up, staring down at Jim for a moment, until he backed away, reaching for the door.

"No, you're not." Jim held up the gun from earlier, pointing it at his head. "You're not going anywhere."

Oh, I'm not? The only way you could make me stay would be to shoot me."

If it would've been anyone else but Sebastian standing there they would have missed the small flicker in Jim's expression, the one that clearly indicated his surprise, that the criminal was caught off guard for a moment, but it was Sebastian, and he did notice, and he knew that Jim wouldn't hurt him. Which only made Sebastian smile, a bitter, humourless smile.

"Fine. Leave. I don't need you anymore." Now Jim was smiling too, his eyes cold and cruel, and Sebastian's smile faltered, staring at the other man, expression stoic once again.

"I said leave!" Jim snapped, hurling the gun at him. He barely managed to dodge it, and quickly moved outside, slamming the door shut behind him before Jim could do anything else, jogging down the stairs, not having the patience to wait for the lift.

He shuddered slightly when he came out in the cold winter air, wrapping his jacket more tightly around him. He didn't know what he was doing, where he could go, but he couldn't stay at the flat. Not tonight. He shut his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, before he picked up his pace, doing what he did best, the one thing that could always make him feel better.

He ran.


End file.
